


beside you

by ArgentLives



Series: Across Every Universe (You are Home) [22]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e06 Enter Zoom, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That had been the worst part, she thinks. Those not-quite fingerprints dug deep into his throat, leaving those ugly dark bruises, a reminder of who—of <em>what</em>—had done this to him. What was still out there, and could do this again. <em>Finish the job</em>. By the time Caitlin had put the neck brace on, the marks were already faded and his skin was familiarly pale and freckled again, but every time she’d closed her eyes she still couldn’t stop seeing them, couldn’t stop seeing Zoom parading around his body, couldn’t stop seeing him lying on the table when she’d first rushed into STAR Labs to find Caitlin bustling around his bedside to stabilize his condition and treat his wounds as he just lied there, so lifeless and bloody and broken. As still as he’d been every damn day in those agonizing nine months of his coma, and God—she’d been so terrified she was going to have to relive that, that he wasn’t going to wake up again, except this time not at all.</p><p>[Iris might not be there the second Barry wakes up, but she's there nonetheless]</p>
            </blockquote>





	beside you

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: "Since we didn't get it, Iris at Barry's bedside completely broken" (in episode 2x06)

“Okay,” she calls out in a bright voice, unnaturally chipper, with a smile that’s so obviously forced. Because the alternative would be crying, and screaming, and throwing things like she so desperately wants to, but she can’t let herself. “I wasn’t sure how much cream and sugar you took in your coffee, Caitlin, I hope this is—oh my God.”

The first thing she registers when she looks up from the little brown cup holder tray she’s balancing in her hand is that instead of two people staring back at her as she walks into the room, there’s three. Barry’s eyes are open, and the neck brace is obscuring the bottom half of his face from her view, but he’s awake and he’s looking at her he’s _awake_ and—he’s crying. Cheeks pink and shining with tears and eyes red-rimmed, like he’s trying hard to hold it in but he can’t; an expression she’s grown to know far too well for her liking.  _Oh, Barry._

The coffees she’d stepped out to pick up for Cisco, Caitlin, and herself fall to the floor as her hand flies up to her mouth at the sight of him—conscious for the first time in what feels like forever. The lids pop off as they hit the floor and they spill all over her boots, but she can’t bring herself to care because he’s awake, Barry’s awake, he’s _alive._ But there’s something so _wrong_ in his eyes, and she can tell without having to ask that he’s hurting, and not just from broken bones or ripped skin. 

She doesn’t think twice, splashes through the puddle of coffee pooling at her feet as she rushes to his side, mentally berating herself because she never should have left. Things never seem to work in her favor these days;  _of course_ he would have woken up without her there. Of course it had to be the second she’d stepped out to grab them all some much needed caffeine—because judging by the heavy bags underneath Cisco and Caitlin’s eyes that she’d been willing to bet matched her own, they were just as tired as she felt—that he’d come back to them. To her.

She’d waited by his bedside all night and into the next day, refusing to sleep, refusing to eat, not really saying anything to anyone other than a quiet " _Thank you"_ to Caitlin when she’d laid a hand on Iris’s shoulder and given her a sad smile, told her in a voice rough from exhaustion that Barry’s vitals had stabilized. That it’d be a while before he’d be okay, but he _would_ be okay. 

She’d almost wished Caitlin hadn’t had to bandage up his chest—she’d wanted to sit there and watch as his skin stitched itself back together, until those ugly claw marks marring his skin had faded away. She’d wanted to be sure. Caitlin had told her he was healing, but she’d needed to see for herself, needed to know, without a doubt, that he would recover. Instead she’d settled on watching his face, as the marks had gone from purple-and-blue to yellow to pale, as the cuts healed themselves, as the bruising around his neck had gone down. 

That had been the worst part, she thinks. Those not-quite fingerprints dug deep into his throat, leaving those ugly dark bruises, a reminder of who—of _what—_ had done this to him. What was still out there, and could do this again. _Finish the job_. By the time Caitlin had put the neck brace on, the marks were already faded and his skin was familiarly pale and freckled again, but every time she’d closed her eyes she still couldn’t stop seeing them, couldn’t stop seeing Zoom parading around his body, couldn’t stop seeing him lying on the table when she’d first rushed into STAR Labs to find Caitlin bustling around his bedside to stabilize his condition and treat his wounds as he just lied there, so lifeless and bloody and broken. As still as he’d been every damn day in those agonizing nine months of his coma, and God—she’d been so terrified she was going to have to relive that, that he wasn’t going to wake up again, except this time not at all.

He had, though. Even though she hadn’t been there to see it happen like she should’ve been. And he’s looking at her right now, following her every move with those big, sad eyes as she drops down to her knees by his bedside and lays her head on his chest, right over his heart, careful not to jar his injuries, feeling that reassuring buzz of his heartbeat against her ear. He touches her hair and chokes out the word “ _Iris”_ in a voice that’s so tired and so small and so weak her heart breaks for him, and then she can’t help it, can’t stop herself as she starts to cry, too.

She gives herself time to collect herself, tracing the freshly healed skin of his chest with trembling fingers, remembering how black and blue and bloody it had looked not long ago, how close she’d come to losing him. _Again_. “You’re okay,” she breathes, holding back another sob, “You—don’t you ever scare me like that again Barry Allen. Don’t you _ever—_ you can’t—fuck, Barry, I’m so glad you’re  _okay_.”

She lifts her head and tries to give him a shaky smile, but it falters as she watches the way his face crumples, screwed up like he’s holding something back, like he’s trying hard to hold himself together, those silent tears still dripping down his chin—jaw clenched so tightly she’s sure it must hurt. “Barry…? Are you—how do you feel? That’s a stupid question, I know but–really. You can talk to me. Please.” 

“Iris, I don’t think…” Caitlin starts, and swallows, sharing a miserable look with Cisco, and she’s surprised to hear the way the woman’s voice shakes, so different from the strictly professional doctor persona Iris had grown used to her occupying as she’d worked round the clock to treat Barry. 

“What?” Iris looks back to Barry, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it tight, her concern growing all the more when this time he won’t meet her eyes. “What wrong?”

“Iris I—my legs. I can’t—I can’t feel my legs, Iris, they don’t work, they won’t move, _I can’t move them_ , I—” he breaks off in a sob, bringing a fist up to press against his mouth and muffle the sound, his knuckles white as he digs his nails deeper into his skin.

Iris feels her stomach drop, looking to Caitlin and squeezing her eyes shut in horror at Caitlin’s nod of confirmation. It’s only a fraction of what Barry must be feeling at the moment, and she takes a deep, steadying breath, reaching out to grab the hand he’s got pressed up to his face to take it with her free one, easing his tightly clenched fist until his palm sits in hers and she can intertwine his fingers with her own. “Barry…I’m so sorry,” she whispers, holding his shaking hands steady in her own, willing herself not to look at his legs. He can’t walk, she thinks, and then—

_He can’t run._

He closes his eyes, and for a moment she’s worried he might try to shut her out, shut all of them out like before, but then there’s the slightest pressure against her hands as he squeezes back lightly, and she knows that’s all he can manage right now. She just holds his tighter to let him know that she’s there, that she understands. And she’s not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on my [tumblr](http://lesbianlaurellance.tumblr.com/)


End file.
